


When the World is Puddle-Wonderful

by alutiv



Series: Four Seasons [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mostly Fluff, Spring, Three-Flat Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alutiv/pseuds/alutiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It rains for three days. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [in the gardens and the graves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/968291) by [alutiv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alutiv/pseuds/alutiv). 



It rains for three days. Each evening, Greg comes home and finds John sitting in the armchair near the window, a book forgotten in his lap, staring through the watery glass. The fourth day, they wake up to weak sunshine through the gap in the curtains. With toast and tea warm in their bellies, they put on their jackets and walk to the park. John turns his face up to the grey sky and takes deep breaths through his nose. Greg guides him around the puddles with an occasional gentle nudge.

Children are everywhere, expending energy built up over days stuck indoors, running, jumping, shrieking, laughing. Two girls dash by, leaping nimbly over the puddles, racing toward a balloon vendor. The balloons are vibrant red, purple, pink, and orange against the park's muted browns and greens. The girls whirl away, balloons bouncing like faithful pets at the end of strings tied to their wrists. Greg smiles, and he thinks John doesn't see.

They pass the balloon man, who is whistling something cheerful. John hums. Greg starts whistling, not really thinking about it until John turns to him.

"I didn't know you could whistle like that," he says.

Greg shrugs. "You don't know everything about me. I have all sorts of hidden talents." He resumes whistling.

John chuckles, shaking his head. "Amazing."  
  



	2. Chapter 2

John and Greg turn for home when the drizzle starts. They're not quicker than the weather; the skies open up, and their socks squelch in their shoes all the way up the stairs. As soon as they're in the door, they strip off their jackets, shoes, and socks. John briskly ruffles his wet hair, throwing water droplets every which way like an just-bathed puppy.

"Hey, quit that!" Greg says, laughter undercutting the sharpness.

"Make me." He lifts his chin and grins a challenge.

Greg catches John's head in both hands and seals his lips over that smile. He licks into John's mouth, relishing the little sound John makes in the back of his throat. Greg leans forward. John sways backward, and Greg drops one hand to the small of his back, guiding him in a gentle descent to the sofa before breaking the kiss.

John looks up at him with hooded eyes and parted lips, and Greg's blood rushes southward so fast it's a wonder he doesn't keel over right there in the sitting room. He straddles John's lap, knees to either side, leaning in for another kiss, ignoring the painful press of his zipper against his erection for the moment. Greg nips at John's lower lip, and John's moans turn into desperate whimpers when Greg pulls back.

Greg smirks. "Better."


	3. Chapter 3

John's sly smile brushes over stubble, kissing a trail to the spot just under Greg's left ear that always, _always_ makes him gasp, then down his neck to his collarbone. Greg tips his head back, eyes half-closed, hips canting when he feels John's teeth against his skin. Greg slides his hands under John's jumper and up over his belly, ribs, chest. He brushes a nipple with his fingertips; it stiffens with his touch. John groans and shifts under him. They grind against each other, and Greg has had about all he can take of all these _clothes_.

Evidently, so has John, because his hand is in between them now, fumbling with the button on Greg's jeans. Greg reaches down to help, but there isn't enough room for both of them to manoeuvre, and John bats his hand away. Greg cups the back of John's head and presses into a kiss, lifting himself up so John's clever fingers can finally, _finally_ get both their flies open. Greg sinks back into John's lap with a sigh. Deft, firm strokes swiftly tip first Greg, then John over the edge. John melts, boneless, into the cushions, and Greg curls forward, his forehead against John's shoulder. They stay like that for a while, listening to the rain outside blending with their slowing breaths, warm and close.

**Author's Note:**

> This particular spring day falls between chapters one and two of "[in the gardens and the graves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/968291)".
> 
> "When the world is puddle-wonderful" is from [ [in Just-]](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/176657) by E. E. Cummings. 
> 
> My thanks to LapOtter and corpsereviver2 for the Three-Flat Problem format. And to the denizens of AntiDiogenes for encouraging me to write something... mature.


End file.
